Touch
by Ponaco
Summary: April finds comfort after a horrible loss. (Not Click-Verse)
1. Chapter 1

Touch

The air was warm and heavy in that oppressive way that settles a damp sheen on everything it touches. Even in the early hours of the morning, even far beneath the city streets, the late summer air crept unavoidable into every corner and over every surface. She moved with the slow, careful precision gained from years of training, each movement ingrained in her muscles. Her breath chanced across her sweat-glistened arm, sending a shiver through her body.

"Keep your left arm straight," he instructed.

The sudden voice was like a ripple through the quiet of the dojo, spreading across the calm until her focus slipped further away. She tried the move again and knew her effort was unsuccessful when a hiss of air pushed from between his pursed lips.

"Like this," he sighed, taking hold of her arm to guide it into the desired position.

His touch sent a shudder through her body, one that did not abate when he slowly moved his hands apart to rest one atop her wrist and the other at the dip in her elbow. The cool sensation of his skin skirted on the edge of the familiar with the slightest hints of deviation. The fingers were not quite as long and the calluses dotting the skin fell in different places, born from wielding blades instead of a bo. Her chest tightened at the comparison and the sudden push at the back of her eyes caught her by surprise. It often did, even after all this time. Her grief was always waiting just beyond the periphery, clawing into her when she managed a semblance of calm or a fleeting moment of happiness.

"Sorry," he murmured, not raising his voice above a whisper.

He dropped his hands away and she closed her eyes to commit the lingering feeling of his touch to memory. She hadn't meant to deter him. She wanted to keep the pain of her loss locked up, hidden away. It was dark and private and she wasn't the only one who lost someone that night. They were still here, they still needed to live.

"Show me again," she said, holding her arm out to him.

She needed him to take it, needed him to touch her; anything to keep the darkness away.

He slid his hands back up her arms, his face even and his gaze unwavering. They moved together, slower than one would if they were truly training. Hands slid and feet shifted. Their touches lingered on the edge of something more until the kata was completed and there was nothing left to distract from their heavy breaths and the lack of space between them. His hands settled, one on her shoulders and the other on her waist, holding that silent moment, standing on the edge but reticent to lean forward.

"I'm not him," he said and there was pain beneath the want, open and obvious in the dim light of the dojo.

"And I'm not her," she replied.

She closed the distance between them until their lips met. The heat and humidity of the room melted away under the cool press of his skin. She opened her mouth to him, sighing when their tongues touched and his hands grew more persistent. They didn't move beyond this; slow, careful kisses and brushes of skin against skin. Maybe someday. When grief is better hidden and guilt doesn't burn so brightly. For now a touch was enough. It was what they needed.


	2. Chapter 2

The florescent light flickered and crackled overhead, bathing the room in an unpleasant yellow-tinted glow. It was cold and a stubborn dampness clung to the air, causing goose flesh to spread across her exposed skin. All of it was a hopeful distraction. She craned her head back and stared up at the slight sway of the light until her vision blurred and the surrounding room lost focus. It was wrong to do this here. It wasn't theirs. It was his and every surface every corner glimmered with his influence. Even after all these years she sometimes expected to find him behind the closed doors, hunched over his keyboard or tinkering with his latest project. But he wasn't and he never would be and now she was here with another.

She closed her eyes when a wide, persistent mouth closed over her throat. A gasp slid past her lips as teeth grazed her skin and she curled her fingers over the metal edge of the table to keep her balance. He pressed against her, his hands sliding down to her hips with slow, deliberate circles that encouraged another gasp to escape past her lingering doubts and guilt. He was strong and solid and something to cling to in the storm. She needed that balance, needed that anchor and she knew he needed it too. It had started as it always did, with caution and trepidation that quickly melted away into a frantic, desperate need for contact.

It was late and they were alone and no one would disturb them here. She knew that, she understood that and yet the tiny twinge of guilt and fear clung to her thoughts. It clouded over the rational side of her mind with the oppressive fear of being caught. She pushed the fear aside and closed her eyes tighter still until starbursts sparked to life in the darkness. The firm hands on her hips moved lower, caressing her thighs and cupping her knees through the fabric of her jeans. She focused on his touch, she clung to it, she needed it.

His mouth traced along her collarbone and they broke apart long enough for a frantic shedding of clothes that left her shivering from the cold and her thinly veiled anticipation of what was to come. He forced her gaze, his pupils dilated on a field of blue. He would stop if she told him to. They would part and that would be the end of it. It wouldn't be the first time one of them turned away and she was certain it wouldn't be the last. It was wrong to be doing this here after all. This place wasn't theirs it was his.

"I…I need this," she said, her voice husky and wanton in the dim room.

He took hold of the back of her head and brought his mouth to hers, pushing away any lingering guilt to the far corners of her mind where it could sulk and later rear its ugly head when his touch was gone and she was truly alone. For now she ignored it. For now she returned the kiss with something close to desperation and eagerly lifted her hips when he moved to finish undressing her. She moaned into his mouth as one of his hands trailed down her stomach and further still to settle between her legs.

She pushed against him, moving her knees apart to give him more room. It was all familiar to her; the cool feel of his skin coupled with the harsh contrast of hardened shell. It was familiar and yet entirely different and she felt a tiny squiggle of guilt for even a moment spent on the comparison. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right and she was determined to get beyond it. The hum of the light soon coupled with the tiny gasps and moans he drew from her with every pass of his fingertips.

"I n-need," he murmured into the taught skin of her throat, the small admittance enough to make her heart clench painfully in her chest.

"Yes," she gasped in reply, her hand moving down to wrap around that most private part of him.

A deep rumble started low in his chest and his grip on her tightened. She let him take control. It was what he needed, it was who he was. He pushed into her with a slow and laborious slide that left them both panting with need by the time he reached the hilt. She rolled her hips forward in encouragement and held on to his shoulder when he started to move inside her.

She closed her eyes and focused only on the feel of him, letting herself go in those few, glorious moments of bliss when there was nothing but the hum of the light and the movement of their entwined bodies. Her voice echoed off the high ceilings and she no longer cared if they were caught; her only concern the growing twist and warmth in her belly and their frantic climb towards the precipice. This had been his as well and yet when she reached the peak and she clung to another and shouted his name she thought for the first time that it could possibly be theirs as well.


End file.
